𝐒𝐄𝐗 & 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 [𝐉𝐉𝐊]

1

[Jungkook's POV]

She’s my addiction.

From the moment I saw her, I knew I was hooked. It wasn’t just her looks—though God, Lizzie could stop traffic in that tight little dress, with those legs that went on forever.

It was something about the way she moved, the way she owned any room she stepped into.

Tonight, the bar is hers, and she doesn’t even know it. I’m tucked in the far corner, hidden in the shadows, loose shirt clinging to my chest, collar open just enough for the night’s heat to caress my skin.

A glass of vodka dangles from my fingers, the ice long melted. But it’s not the burn of alcohol I’m craving.

It’s her.

Lizzie.

My Lizzie.

She doesn’t know she belongs to me, not yet. But I do. And that’s all that matters.

She’s dancing like no one’s watching, hips swaying in time to the music, lost in the beat. Her body—a temptation wrapped in sin, tight and flawless in a dress that’s nothing more than a suggestion.

The kind that could break a man, or drive him to kill. My jaw clenches as I watch her, every inch of me screaming to close the distance, to drag her into the dark and keep her there forever.

But I don’t. Not yet.

I let her have this moment of freedom, let her think she’s in control.

But in reality, she’s never been more out of it.

Her long blonde hair catches in the light as she spins, a smile tugging at her lips. That smile, the one that sets my blood on fire and twists my insides into knots. It’s wild, careless—just like her.

And tonight, she’s mine. She can dress like that, move like that, be every man’s fantasy, but in the end? She only belongs to me.

One of the guys in the crowd thinks he can try. He sidles up to her, too close, his hand already reaching for her waist.

“Not today, loser,” I hiss under my breath, fingers twitching as my blood runs cold. I roll my eyes, the barest flick of my wrist.

I don’t have to say a word. One of my men catches the signal, and within minutes, the bastard’s gone.

“You wanted a taste of her? Enjoy your last drink, punk," I mutter, watching as my guy gets the job done.

There’s no room for mistakes here.

Dead.

His body will be tomorrow’s news, found in some alley, bloodied and dumped like the trash he is.

“Nothing personal, just business,” I think, a smirk curling my lips. But for now, no one notices. No one even knows it happened.

That’s the thing about power—when you have it, you don’t need to speak.